


I love you, darling

by kooky500



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s01e03 Bella Bella Bella, Eventual Happy Ending, Haphephobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Poor Philip, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooky500/pseuds/kooky500
Summary: Prompt from Anon (gabs): is it possible that you could write about philip having a crazy-stalker ex-boyfriend fromthe city, & when lucas leaves philip in the gay club alone in ep 2 (I think??) he gets attacked and kidnapped and lucas gets rlly upset and angry and hunts em down. but not before the guys done some evil shit (ANGST) but there's like a gradual happy ending bc he gets rescued n fluff??





	1. Lost Boy

Lukas stormed out of the club in a huff, while Philip rolled his eyes. The brunette shook it off and headed towards the bar. He wasn’t going to let Lukas ruin _this_ for him as well.

Philip makes his way through the crowd of men, far more comfortable than he’d ever been in Tivoli so far. This is familiar. This is _his turf._ The flashing lights, the dancing bodies around him, the music blaring in his ears – this is what Philip _knows_.

He strolls over to the bar with a grin on his face and holds his breath when he hands the bartender his fake I.D. He’s done it enough that by now he’s pretty sure they _know_ its fake but let it pass anyway.

Philip sat down on one of the stools and ordered some fruity cocktail – he couldn’t allow himself to get drunk, no matter how much he wanted to.

The bartender placed the glass on the counter as a man sauntered up to Philip. The brunette’s eyes flickered to the side, taking in the man’s appearance. Pin-straight black hair, tied back in a ponytail, olive skin, face so gaunt he almost looked sickly _and those, calculating green eyes,_ Philip thought.

“Calvin.” Philip greeted his ex. He always used to laugh at how fitting the name was since the man always looked like he’d walked out of a _Calvin Klein_ store. Even now, as he stood before Philip bare-chested and sweaty from dancing the black jeans he wore were _clearly_ not from any _Walmart_ or _Target_.

The man smiled at him as he took the stool next to his. “Ah, Philip. What are you doing here?” He asked as the bartender wandered away, he leaned in closer. “I know you’re not 21.” He teased. Philip rolled his eyes, flashing the fake ID.

“You’re only three years older than me, you know.” Philip pointed out, though the argument sounded weak even to his ears. “So what are _you_ doing here? You usually avoid this side of town.” The brunette chatted, sipping his drink. Calvin shrugged.

“The bartender is a friend so I figured I’d stop by and say hello. Seeing you was a pleasant surprise.”

Calvin smirked at him, before glancing out towards the people. “You here with anyone tonight?” He inquired and Philip was reminded of why they’d broken up. Calvin had gotten controlling, the more serious they got.

_“Where are you going?”_

_“Who’s this contact on your phone?”_

_“I don’t like you hanging out with Sam anymore – I think he’s got a thing for you.”_

Eventually, Philip wizened up and called it quits. They’d parted as friends, but Philip left for Tivoli shortly after and wounds were too fresh to keep in touch.

“No,” Philip responded to the man’s original question. “I mean, I kind of have something going with this guy but – he _insists_ that he’s straight even though we made out for like two minutes and he keeps initiating things.” He finished the story, by taking the last sip of his drink.

“Ah yes – I know the type,” Calvin assured. Was it Philip’s imagination or did the man’s expression turn slightly angry? The brunette shifted, uncomfortable.

“I should probably get back to him, by the way. I told him one drink.” Philip said as he glanced at the time. He didn’t realize half an hour had passed. _Oops._ As he said goodbye, Philip stood to leave and stumbled, grabbing Calvin’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I just- feel really sleepy all of a sudden.” The brunette apologized. Calvin stood, and steadied him with a pair of hands on his waist.

“Are you sure Philip?”

The brunette gave a weak nod. _God, when had everything gotten so blurry?_

Calvin was talking to him, but Philip could scarcely make out what he was saying. _Need…to find… Lukas._ Calvin was leading him somewhere, out the back of the place it looked like but before the man could open the door Philip swayed heavily for a beat, before collapsing against the man.

Philip’s world went black.

 

 

Lukas’ mouth pulled into a grimace, as he watched another gay couple walk out of the club all over each other.

“Where the hell are you, Philip?” He asked in a mutter. He had said _one drink_. How long does one drink take? Certainly not the half-hour he’d been standing there on the sidewalk. People were starting to stare at him, now.

_Maybe he ditched you for someone else,_ his mind whispered. _No_ , he firmly told himself, _Philip wouldn’t do that_ … _would he?_ The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Seeing no choice, Lukas turned around and marched back into the club to find Philip. _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ he thought, as he wove through the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of Philip to no avail. By the time he wandered over to the bar, a part of him was starting to worry.

“Hey uh, have you seen a man about my height, wavy brown hair, brown eyes, aviator jacket?” He asked the bartender, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“No sorry, haven’t seen anyone like that all night.” The woman responded. “Oh wait – yeah, he was leaving with some guy when I started my shift.” She remembered, and Lukas felt something twist in his gut.

_“You jealous?”_

_“You want me to be.”_

He returns home alone that night.

***

The next morning Lukas wakes up quickly, realizing that it’s not the weekend yet and he didn’t set his alarm. He quickly dresses and races downstairs… to find his dad sitting on the couch, his attention rapt on the T.V.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” Lukas asks as he places two pieces of bread in the toaster. His dad switches off the television and makes his way into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Lukas,” He begins, a frown on his face. “There’s an amber alert out for that boy – uh, Philip I thought you said his name was? I know you two were starting to be friends.” Bo paused. “It’s always those city-slickers – getting into some type of trouble.” He tutted.

The plate that the boy had been holding fell to the ground and shattered.

“What?” Lukas managed to get out. “Do-do they have any leads?”

Bo shook his head. “Nah, the police don’t even know where he disappeared from, so the most they could do is gather up a search party in town.”

Lukas hated the feeling of relief that first part gave him because it meant that no one saw him with Philip.

He goes to school during the week, plays his part of ignorance along with the rest of the school. The guilt eats him up.

_Are you really going to let Philip rot somewhere because you can’t fucking admit that you’re gay?_

_I’m such a piece of shit._

_When Philip hears of this, he won’t want you anyways._

Round and round the thoughts invade his mind during the day. At night, his dreams are filled with images of Philip. Not happy images, but the images of Philip being killed in various gruesome ways. He says the same thing every time.

“All your fault.” Over and over and over again until eventually Lukas can’t take it anymore, and walks down to the Sheriff’s station a week after the brunette’s disappearance. He comes clean about everything: Philip, the cabin, the nightclub, the fake I.Ds, the ‘one drink’ he gives them every bit of information he can remember.

They catch the killer from the cabin and figure it’s only a matter of getting him to tell them where Philip is. Boom. Case closed.

If only it were that simple.

“I’m telling you – I don’t know of any kid named Philip.”

“Are you sure? Because he disappeared from a nightclub-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. I was a _federal agent_ – that seem like the type to frequent night clubs to you?”

Helen was ready to punch the man in the interrogation room before Kamilah talked some sense into her.

“If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. Beating the shit out of him won’t change that fact.” Kamilah pointed out. “He may be a killer – but he doesn’t have Philip. He’s not our guy.” She sighed.

Lukas had been _so sure._ He was positive that the killer from the cabin had Philip. When Helen breaks the news to him, he feels numb. Later on, his heart hurts now that the last bit of hope has been snatched away.

_Where the hell are you, Philip?_


	2. Like Fire, Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip's story of what happened after he was taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this might end up being 4 parts. I don't know yet, we'll see what happens.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry for this, Philip....

Philip wakes slowly, as is often the case. His senses gently come back to him, though it still feels like the world is in slow motion. He’s in a bed, and a rather plush one at that with black silk around him, and a canopy above him. Definitely _not_ his bed.

His clothes are missing, Philip notices and _is that an I.V in his arm_? His other arm is hoisted above his head, tied to the headboard with what feels like metal.

“What the…” The brunette mumbles out in a slur. Somewhere a door opens and there’s the sound of footsteps. A familiar face, dressed in a white medical coat appears.

“Hello, darling.”Calvin coos, leaning down to brush a hand through Philip’s hair. The brunette glares at him, through the haze of the drugs in his system.

“Not your darling.” He bites. Calvin simpers at him.

“Of course you are, you’ve _always_ been my darling.” He leans down to a press a kiss to Philip’s hand. “Why just last night we made love – or did you forget?”

The brunette’s brows furrow.

“Ah, I would have loved to wait until you were awake. But… you just made me so _angry_ with talk of someone else. I couldn’t wait to make you mine.” Calvin recalls fondly.  

He raped him. The man just _admitted to fucking raping him in his sleep._ Beneath the effects of the drugs being pumped into his veins, a wave of disgust rolls through Philip and he turns to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach onto hardwood floors.

When he leans back, something must show in his expression because Calvin looks at him in concern and tutts. “I think it’s time you go back to sleep.” He states, and adjusts the machine next to the bed.

As Philip feels consciousness fade again, Calvin leans over him to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, darling.” The man whispers, as Philip’s eyes droop closed

_No, you don’t_.

***

_“Mommy mommy mommy!” Philip screamed, the five-year-old racing into the kitchen as fast as his little feet could carry him. He pouted up at his mom._

_“What is it, honey?” She asked while she busied herself with the day’s dinner._

_“Tommy was being mean to me, cause I like Disney Princesses.” He announced, stomping his feet. Anne stopped and stooped down to look at Philip._

_“What did Tommy say?” Anne questioned. Philip sniffled._

_“He said they was for girls and-and that you won’t love me no more.” The boy answered. His lip wobbled, and he looked on the verge of tears. Anne smiled at him, sweetly._

_“Sweetheart, I will always love you no matter what.” She assured him. “And who says you have to be a girl to like them? You can choose to like whatever you want, Philip.” She continued._

_The boy stared at her with wide eyes, as though this was a foreign concept to him. Oh, she would definitely be having words with Tommy’s parents._

_Anne reached out, pulling the boy closer to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, darling.” She promised. Philip giggled._

_“I love you too, mommy!” He squealed, hugging closer to her. After a minute, Anne pulled back to look at Philip._

_“Is there anything else that Tommy did?” Anne pressed, knowing how fond Philip was of hiding things. Only five years old and already Philip had developed a habit of secrets. The boy shuffled._

_“H-he tooked my favorite storybook.” The boy confessed._

_“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.” The woman noted, Philip shook his head in agreement. “I’ll buy you a new one, okay? Which one is your favorite?”_

_Philip gave a toothy grin. “Sleeping Beauty!”_

***

Philip wakes in snippets from then on. In and out of consciousness, he doesn’t know how much time has passed. He doesn’t know what happens to him while he sleeps, doesn’t know what Calvin is doing to him. Only the dull aches and pains of his body serve as a hint. The thought makes Philip feel dirty – the kind that can never be washed off. He prefers not to think about it.

His only way of keeping track of time is the fact that each time he wakes the man is wearing a different outfit. Not the most accurate way to keep time. Is he waking daily? Or less than that? Does the man change his clothes multiple times per day? Every time Calvin puts him back under it’s the same ritual as the first time. He kisses Philip – who’s far too gone to protest, and then whispers that same phrase: “I love you, darling.”

_“I love you, darling.”_

_“I love you, darling.”_

_“I love you, darling.”_

_What a vile phrase,_ the boy thinks.

Philip is a prisoner, trapped by his own flesh and the drugs flowing through his veins.

Calvin tries to talk to him each time Philip wakes, and each time the brunette refuses to give him the satisfaction. But everyone has their limits.

“I do wish you would stop this childish game of the silent treatment, Philip. You know I love you, darling.” Calvin says.

“Stop it.” Philip croaks out, his throat sore for disuse but he managed to capture Calvin’s attention.

“Pardon?” The man perks up. Philip musters a glare.

“I’m n-not your fucking _darling._ ” He spits. “And you sure as hell do not fucking _love me_ , you sick fuck.”

In a second, Calvin has his chin in a tight grip, forcing him to look at the man. “Now now _darling_ ,” He grits out. “Let’s not say anything we’ll regret, hm?”

“Go to hell, you sick psychopath.” Philip hisses. Faster than he can blink, a hand strikes him hard across the face as Calvin adjusts the machine to bring him back under.

His last observation is that the smile is gone from the man’s face.

***

Something is different the next time Philip wakes up and it takes a moment for him to notice that the I.V is gone, both of his hands are now raised above his head and tied to the headboard. The black sheet covering him has been pulled down to his hips leaving his chest exposed. As usual, Calvin sits to his side but this time he has a tray of tools with him.

Philip gulps, as he feels his heartbeat pick up. _This is it,_ he can’t help but think _he’s finally going to just kill me._ Calvin notices him watching and smirks at he picks up a scalpel.

There’s a feeling of cold on his chest as Calvin opens an antiseptic wipe and cleans the skin. “Sorry about taking the I.V away.” He says, positioning the scalpel above the skin.

“I wanted you to feel this.” With that, he sinks the blade into Philip’s skin and starts cutting. Philip screams and screams and _screams_ – the sound almost animalistic _._ The pain that follows is excruciating, as Calvin carves into his flesh. Philip doesn’t bother to try and hold back the tears that gather. He almost passes out several times, but Calvin always brings him back. After what feels like forever, the man finally finishes, Philip’s chest a bloody mess.

The brunette lays there limply as Calvin bandages the wound and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this.

***

When Philip wakes next, his hands are tied in front of him, as for the first time in who-knows-how-long Calvin hoists him out of bed. As they walk Philip gets a better view of the place. The walls are a red brick, and against the far wall, on the left is a large window that stretches from floor to ceiling. Opposite the window is a door, and the bed lies against the far right wall. Next to the bed is another door, which Calvin leads him through.

Philip briefly entertains the idea of fighting Calvin but dismisses it. He can barely stand on his own after weeks of being unconscious – what chance would he have? The door opens into a bathroom. Philip stares into the mirror above the sink as Calvin undoes the bandage.

He’s pale as a sheet, his brown eyes look more sunken in. Had he always been that bony? His hair is wild, sticking up in different directions. _I look-_

“There.” Calvin interrupts his thoughts. Philip’s blood runs cold as his eyes drift to his chest.

_‘I love you, darling_

_Calvin’_

The man hooks his chin over Philip’s shoulder, taking in the boy’s horrified expression.

“There, now you’ll _never_ forget me. It’ll scar, don’t worry – I’m not a med student for nothing.” He says with a grin, as nausea pools in Philip’s stomach.

_You will never gain back what you lost here._

“Now,” Cal pauses, pulling out some clothes, a pair of jeans and an oversized shirt. “Be good while I help you dress – we don’t want someone to lose a finger, now _do we?_ ” He questions. Philip feels much like a child’s doll, allowing Cal to dress him.

When he’s done Calvin allows him to walk around – the door is locked after all, and Calvin doesn’t keep his computer in the apartment.

“No more-e sedative?” Philip questions hesitantly. Calvin raises an eyebrow.

“Do you _want_ to sleep again? I would have figured that after a few weeks you might like to walk around but-“

“No! I mean, no I-I don’t want to sleep again.” Philip interrupts, shuffling past Calvin before the man can change his mind.

***

_What the hell?_ Philip runs his fingers over display cases mounted on the far left wall. It’s a shirt of his, one he thought he’d lost when he moved to Tivoli. An old baseball cap. An old camera. Pictures he’d thrown out. _His fucking hair._ Old assignments. More clothing. All the cases are filled with things related to _him._ Not for the first time he wonders just _how long_ this sicko has been obsessed with him.

A chill rolls down Philip’s spine as he pulls himself away from the disturbing memorabilia. Instead, he wanders over to the window, placing his palms on the glass. _Huh, it’s nighttime_ Philip observes. He looks out over a darkened street with only a few streetlights still working.

_Wait!_ Philip’s heart jumps as he sees something… _Is it…. It is! A fucking flashlight!_ Philip could practically jump up and down in excitement. If Calvin weren’t sitting at a desk right beside him. The flashlight is coming closer now, joined by two more. One passes over the window and for a second the brunette holds his breath. Calvin _must_ have seen that. When the man doesn’t react Philip lets out a breath he’d been holding.

A pair of arms come to wrap around Philip’s waist, as Calvin rests his chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Philip panics for a second and looks down to see that the flashlights have gone. He should probably feel relieved that they’ve gone, but instead, a sense of disappointment takes over. _There went my only chance at getting out of here._

“Don’t get any ideas,” Calvin warns. “It’s a long drop.”

***

The next few seconds happen fast.

The doorknob turns and Calvin spins around, only to see Helen Torrence raise a gun at him. Beside her is a woman with long, wavy brown hair. _Mom?_ And a flash of bleached blonde. _Lukas?_

“Hands on your head!” Helen barks. Calvin complies with a smirk. His green eyes roam over the figures across the room.

“Let’s see… foster mom, I’m guessing. Hello, Anne, nice to see you again.” He addresses the two women, his eyes narrow when they land on Lukas, his hands coming down from his head. “Ah – and the other guy.” Calvin finishes.

“Hands on your head or I _will_ shoot!” Helen repeats. The smirk falls off of the man’s face.

“If I can’t have him, you can’t either.” Cal decides, looking at Lukas. In an instant, Calvin spins around grabbing Philip by the shoulders.

With a glint in his eyes, the man shoves, the glass shattering under the boy’s weight like a thin piece of ice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a sneaky reference in there that video game fans might get. ;)
> 
> As always, thank you for the views, comments & kudos! I'm really glad you guys like reading this <3


	3. Update Delay

Hey guys, so the next update is going to be delayed. I lost one of my beloved pets today, so I'm not quite in a writing mood, sorry. Just thought I'd let you all know.


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is many things. Okay - is not one of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody for your support after losing my pet, and your patience with updates. It means a lot to me that you guys read, and take the time to comment how much you like my stories. <3

_Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum_

Philip can hear the thumping of his heart in his ears, as Calvin shoves him backward and suddenly the glass isn’t at his back anymore. A shriek rings out, and it sounds like his mom, Philip thinks. Two thoughts jump to the front of his mind.

The first is that he’s falling, the man just pushed him out of a window and he’s _falling._ The second thought is that in a few seconds he’s going to hit that, cold, hard stone ground and it’s going to _hurt._ A lot.

Philip is right.

His body hits the ground with an audible crack and a crunch, his vision swimming as his skull splits on the concrete.

“Augh!” Philip can’t help the groan he lets out at the impact.

Every part of his body is screaming in pain, as blood pools beneath his head. He doesn’t dare try to move – not even sure he _could_ move if he wanted to. _God, it hurts._ It’s all Philip can do to lie as still as possible and take shuddering breath after shuddering breath.

There are sirens in the distance, steadily increasing in volume as they draw closer. It feels like there’s cotton in his ears now, as the sound fades into the background. Everything starts to go white, this time he welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

_“…broken…several…bo-”_

“… _surgery…now….”_

_“…alright….going to… okay… Philip.”_

Philip picked up pieces of conversation. He was lying on some kind of surface – a gurney, presumably and felt himself being moved. The next thing he registered, something was being placed over his nose and mouth and he was gone again.

***

“Here,” Gabe offered, handing Helen a cup of poorly made coffee from the cafeteria. He took a seat beside her, as the pair waited to hear about Philip. Anne was there too – it turns out exceptions to rules can be made when your son is missing and later winds up in the ICU.

They wait with bated breath, to the sounds of sips of bitter coffee, and the nurses’ sneakers on the hallways.

It’s funny, how things never turn out _exactly_ like you’d expect. The search party wasn’t planned – more of a spur of the moment thing. One last shot, but no one expected to find anything. Still, they split off – a small group from the town and headed out into the city, for one last look around the nightclub.

It was Lukas who suggested heading into an abandoned block of apartments.

_“I just – if I were gonna kidnap someone I’d take them somewhere I know people won’t look.” He’d said, vehemently._

Helen and Anne decided to humor him. It was worth a shot at least.

_“Hey – look up there. Is that a light on?” Lukas asked, flickering over a window with his flashlight._

_Helen furrowed her brows. “I think it might be. Let’s go check it out.”_

After that of course, the man who kidnapped Philip was taken away in handcuffs and his captive, in an ambulance.

***

A clock on the receptionist’s desk reads twelve a.m., when a nurse in blue scrubs with her bright-red hair pulled back into a ponytail, walked down the hall and stopped in front of the three.

“You’re here for Philip Shea, correct?” She asked, a southern drawl to her voice. All three sat up a little straighter.

“Yes, we are,” Helen confirmed. The nurse offered a little smile.

“I’m afraid we won’t have news about him until the morning.” The nurse announced. “My advice is to go home and try to get some sleep. We’ll call you in the morning, or if anything changes.”

Anne swallowed. “Alright, thank you.”

With a heavy heart and a sense of dread in their gut, the adults left the hospital.

***

The morning isn’t off to a great start, Tony offered to hold down the fort for Helen at the station – but Gabe was called into work.

“I’ll call you with whatever the doctor tells us,” Helen promised her husband as he left.

Half an hour later, Helen along with Anne, made her way to the nurse’s station in the hospital. The worry hadn’t abated. The woman from the previous night came to greet them.

 “I remember you two, you’re here for Philip.” The nurse said. She took a deep breath. “There were some… complications last night, and unfortunately I have to tell you that Philip is in a coma. You can visit him, though, his room number 3528. I’ll send his doctor up to speak with you, she knows more about this than me.” She offered.

Helen nodded numbly, the words ringing in her ears. _Coma._ _How many people died in a coma each year? How many lived?_

_Which would Philip be?_

***

Philip is lying on a strange hospital bed when they walk into the room, it’s narrower than normal beds and there are no guard rails on the side. There’s a metal ring curving over his hips, with several screws leading into his body. There are bandages around his forehead as well as his chest. A tube in his nose connects to an oxygen tank.

Anne sucked in a sharp gasp, as she saw the boy. Helen wished she’d shot the psychopath who did this to Philip when she had the chance. They took a seat at Philip’s bedside while they waited for the doctor.

As they sat there, Helen remembered something she’d been meaning to ask the boy’s mother. “Anne, that man from last night… he knew your name.” Helen began. “Did you know him?” It sounded bad even to her ears. _Did you know your child’s kidnapper?_ How do you ask someone that?

Anne released a shaky breath, brushed a lock of hair from her red-rimmed eyes. “I only met him once. H-he was Philip’s boyfriend at the time, Calvin.” She paused, “Philip was so happy. Drunk on teenage love, you know? But then uh, one day he came home and he looked sort of uncomfortable. I asked him what happened and all I got was a “Calvin and I broke up” and that was that. He never mentioned him again and I didn’t want to open old wounds.” Anne recounted, her face paling.

“D-do you – oh god, is this _my fault?_ Should I have seen this coming?” The brunette asked herself, releasing a sob.

“It’s not your fault, Anne.” Helen comforted – if somewhat stiffly. She and Anne had their differences but Helen knew all-too-well the feeling of guilt over something that wasn’t your fault. “You couldn’t have known.”

The brunette gave an absent nod and opened her mouth to respond when the door opened. A woman waltzed into the room. She was short and curvy, with bright pink hair pulled back into a braid.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Scott.” She introduced, her lips pulled into a frown. “I suppose I should start at the beginning. Last night, as you know Philip was rushed into surgery following his fall. He did have several fractures in his spine and pelvic region as well as a broken rib,” She paused. “As you can see –we have put him in device designed to help keep those bones stabilized along with his spine, but there will be some lasting damage.”

“Oh god,” Anne choked out. Doctor Scott pursed her lips.

“I wish that I could say the list of injuries ends there. The boy also hit his head pretty hard on the ground and there was some bleeding between the skull and the brain. Un fortunately, memory loss is not uncommon with this type of injury.” The doctor took a breath, letting the information sink in. “There was also evidence of sexual assault. We did find dried blood and sexual fluids around the anal sphincter. Now – I did run some tests for STDs and _most_ of them have come back negative. I’ll contact you if anything changes, but I do expect all of them to return negative.”

Helen clenched her jaw. “That still doesn’t explain why he’s in a coma!” She snapped. The doctor sighed.

“Last night, Philip experienced what is called a fat embolism. This essentially means that fat from his bone marrow leaked into his bloodstream, and blocked a vessel.” Doctor Scott looked at the boy. “We’re doing everything we can now but, the rest is really up to Philip.” She finished.

After making sure neither woman had any questions, Doctor Scott stood from her seat to leave. She froze, two steps from the door and turned around.

“There is one other thing I wanted you to be aware of. Philip got a rather large amount of bone marrow in his bloodstream. This has been known to… have a rather _significant_ effect on the patient.”

“I just want you to know that when – or _if_ – Philip wakes up, he might be... different.”

***

_3528 3528 3528_. The numbers went round and round in Lukas’ head just like they had for the past month. _A month._ Philip had been in a coma for a whole month and he barely even spared the hospital a glance when he rode past it. Yet still, he’d memorized his room number for some dumb reason.

His palms stick with sweat, as the elevator doors open with a _ding_ and he stumbles out onto the third floor. The blonde keeps his eyes glued firmly to the white walls as he follows the signs, looking for Phillip’s room.

Above him, fluorescent lights feel like spotlights and the silence in the hallways is deafening. For a hospital, he would have thought there to be more people.

When he gets to Philip’s room there’s a nurse there, finishing changing an I.V bag. She wears a frown on her face.

“You can go ahead and have a seat, I’m almost done here.” She offers. Lukas sits down, silently taking in Philip’s condition. He looks pale, and there are so many tubes and bandages and equipment attached to him. _Will he ever wake up? What happens if he doesn’t?_ Lukas doesn’t realize he’s spoken aloud until he sees the sympathetic smile the nurse offers him.

“I’m going to be honest with you, it doesn’t look good.” The woman reluctantly admits. “We’re all hoping for him but – he’s not doing too well.”

Lukas doesn’t _quite_ know how to process that, so instead, he swallows around the lump in his throat and asks for her to give him some time alone with Philip.

“Sure thing,” The woman says, closing the door behind her. Then it’s just Lukas and Philip.

“I broke up with Rose.” Lukas blurts out, to the unconscious boy because it’s the first thing that comes to his mind. “I uh- she wasn’t too happy about it, but she’ll be okay.”

His hands in his lap shake as they fidget, as Lukas cracks a dry smile. “What’s with all this _shit_?” He asks, gesturing to the equipment and bandages. “You look like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster. I’ll bet the kids at school will flip when they hear this.” The teasing falls flat, even to the blonde’s own ears. The boy on the bed remains in his comatose state of course. Not even a twitch.

“Everyone’s really worried about you,” Lukas tells him, pretending not to hear the way his own voice wavers. “ _I’m_ really worried about you.” He confesses.

A beat passes, the faint humming of the machines accompanied by Lukas’ sniffling. The wetness in his eyes is, of course, caused by the dust in the room. Obviously.

“Please wake up, Philip.” He begs one last time before he has to leave.

***

Another month passes, but Philip remains asleep.

Lukas visits him as often as he can, telling the brunette the latest gossip, and mindless stories when there’s nothing happening, all in the hope of him waking up. Helen and Gabe visit too when they can.

Near the end of the month, the doctor is starting to suggest that Philip might not wake again. They’ve not even seen a muscle spasm from the boy.

But then, on a Friday afternoon, just as Helen and Gabe are making their way out – a groan sounds from the bed, hoarse and weak but there nonetheless. In a matter of minutes, there are nurses and doctors bustling around the boy fiddling with various equipment.

“T-there…was…boy…talking,” He barely slurs out. “Who… was-s he?”

Helen and Gabe share a confused glance, before Gabe gently replies, “Well… that was probably Lukas.”

Philip’s eyebrows knit together at this, as unconsciousness threatens to take him again.

“Who’s Lukas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, by the way.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it, and feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes that I may have missed. :)


	5. Do I know you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip struggles to make sense of a life he doesn't remember while dealing with his trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter! :3 Grab your tissues, everybody.

The first thing Philip does when he’s finally released from the hospital is unwrap the bandages around his chest, leaning heavily on his cane (a permanent change in his life, unfortunately) in front of the bathroom mirror.

As the fabric falls to the floor, Philip stares at the pink, shiny words carved into his flesh. A finger reaches up to trace them ever-so-lightly. It fills him with a mixture of anger and strangely, curiosity. The brunette finds himself wondering. _What would it feel like to mark someone’s flesh like this? Feel them squirm, as you dig into their skin? Hear their screams while blood weeps from the wound?_ A part of him wants to laugh, feels like he caught the other man’s crazy. Is that a thing? Philip doesn’t know and isn’t quite sure he wants to either.

“Philip, dinner!” Helen’s voice calls from downstairs, interrupting his thoughts. Is he supposed to respond? Philip doesn’t know – doesn’t even know these people, really. Well, he knows them but he doesn’t _know_ them. He remembers Helen and Gabe’s names but, that’s it. They’re just strangers with names, now.

Helen and Gabe ordered Chinese Food; they tell him it’s his favorite. He eats what little he can, in small bites. It tastes like nothing grease, but Philip forces himself to choke down the food. The brunette keeps his eyes on his plate the whole meal. They eat in silence.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” He murmurs after he finishes as his excuse to leave.

*

Philip loses track of how much time he spends in the shower, but he steps in when the water is boiling hot. His skin turns pink under the shower. The brunette scrubs and _scrubs_ at his skin, every time he moves to a different area he swears he saw fingerprints on his skin and starts all over again, shuddering in disgust.

His skin is red and irritated, and the water ice cold by the time Philip steps out of the shower. He still feels dirty. There’s a permanent layer of grime on his skin that he can’t seem to get off.

Philip glances at the clock as he dresses, an hour and a half have passed since he left the dinner table. Helen is probably worried, Philip thinks. She’s been treating him like he’s made of glass ever since he got out of the hospital, and to put it lightly – Philip is sick of it. Sick of the pity in everyone’s eyes, and the sympathetic looks they give him. _He’s fine, damn it!_

_*_

Philip spends the rest of his night in his room, seeking solace in the one place that feels familiar to him. He doesn’t recognize it, but it _feels_ familiar so that has to count for something, right?

He passes the time by alternating between watching shows on Netflix and playing video games. The brunette is lying on his bed, some terrible horror movie playing on the small screen as he tiredly rests his chin on his hand. He moves the touchpad, exploring the computer. The cursor hovers over the folder labeled ‘Pictures’ and he clicks out of curiosity.

Pictures say a lot about a person, don’t they? Family, friends, life events, all can be captured and preserved with a photo, so surely there must be something in the folder that might help with his memory, Philip thinks.

A birthday party that looks to be at some arcade, surrounded by other children that look to be about five. Philip is in the middle, his mouth covered in blue frosting as he grins at the camera. They’re all wearing party hats, and most have a bad case of red-eye.

Another photo showed a slightly older Philip – maybe fifteen? He was dressed in loose shorts, an undershirt, and sandals. His face was tanned with a fair amount of teenage acne. In the photo, he sported. The boy was sporting a faint blush as he sheepishly smiled at the camera with the boy next to him. The boy next to him was dark-skinned and had his hair short. He had a hand wrapped around Philip’s waist.

Philip could vaguely remember him – his first boyfriend. The brunette couldn’t remember his name, though.

The next photo was of a woman that Philip recognized as his mom, sitting at a table on a patio. The area around her looked gray and bleak – the plants all dead, and no color to be found. Even his mother’s brown hair looked dull, down across her back. She was staring across the way with a frown, at a gate that blocked the patio from a street. Across the street sat a perfectly-trimmed, green yard, which the sun shone down on. This photo was considerably better than the others. Philip assumed this was when his interest in photography began to develop – no pun intended.

There’s another photo, marked just a few months before… the incident. It gives Philip pause. It’s a boy, on some type of motorbike, mid-jump. The setting isn’t unlike Tivoli and the brunette wonders if the boy – or person, really, is a friend of his. There’s a jolt of familiarity as he looks at the other photos of the mysterious person. Unfortunately, the person has their helmet on in all of the photos. Still, as he closes the folder, Philip can’t help but feel like something is missing.

 _11:00._ He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Helen appears in his doorway, with a light knock on the frame.

“Hey, Philip.” She greets.

“Hey.”

“You planning on going to bed anytime soon?” Helen asks, gently. _No._ The thought of sleeping terrifies Philip these days. It makes his heart leap into his throat and his stomach churn in queasiness because every time he lies down it all comes rushing back to him. The memories of unwanted touching, and a face he’s not sure he can ever forget no matter how much he wants to, are all that he sees in his dreams these nights.

“I uh, I can’t sleep is all.” He lies. Helen doesn’t believe him, it’s evident in her expression and for a second Philip is worried she’ll call him out on his lie.

“Well, at least try, alright? You go back to school tomorrow and I don’t want you showing up exhausted.” Helen requests. He gives her a nod, which seems to satisfy her enough since she leaves after that.

Philip doesn’t bother trying – on the contrary, he takes wanders down to the kitchen (as quietly as one can, when you walk with a cane) and takes a bunch of energy pills just to avoid sleeping. What little relief he feels when he finally glimpses the sun’s rays peeking through the blinds on his window, is quickly diminished as he realizes the new horror he now has to face.

_School_

*

School is an interesting affair. Philip walks in the doors and suddenly can feel every eye on him as he walks. Before, he was known as the new kid, or in some cases, _the gay kid._ Now, he’s seen as the kid on the news, the one who was missing. His face is cold, mouth set in a thin line as he makes his way to his locker.

Philip is in his third class – History, when he notices that there’s a blonde who keeps sneaking glances at him. His are more, concerned rather than curiosity and pity like the rest. The other boy feels… _familiar_ and the brunette finds himself unable to decide if that’s a good or a bad thing. He settles for avoiding the boy.

Philip has three more classes with the boy, and all the while he can feel blue eyes on his back. The brunette scowls back, occasionally.

After that, lunchtime rolled around. Philip didn’t know where to go, where his friends were. _Did he even have friends?_ He settled for eating lunch at his locker, with his back pressed up against the cool metal. The silence is unnerving. Once, he might have liked the brief lapse of footsteps and conversation. Now it just makes him feel like screaming.

Philip opens his lunch with a crinkle of the bag and takes out an only-slightly-flattened PB&J sandwich. He takes a bite, and swallows the horrid thing, though it makes him feel like puking.

“Eugh,” He groans, as footsteps approach. He looks up and _of course,_ its blondie standing there.

“You want to come eat with me and my friends?” The other boy asks. Philip shakes his head, as blondie rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” The blonde urges, reaching a hand down. Everything seems to slow down, as images flash in the brunette’s mind. A hand reaching for him, a hand reaching out to put him back to sleep, a hand with a scalpel carv- Philip scrambles away from the touch like it’s poison, his eyes wide in fear.

“Leave me alone,” Philip demands, though it sounds more like begging honestly. The look on the blonde’s face is a mixture of hurt and confusion, but he doesn’t bother Philip further, thankfully, as the brunette hastily gathers his things, shakily reaches for his cane and stands. The air is suddenly too thick to breathe, as Philip strides away. _Well, at least I can be sure I wasn’t friends with him._

*

“Hey”

At the sound of the voice, Philip keeps walking. He’s out for a morning walk, as per the doctor’s instructions. He doesn’t mind the walks usually. This time he _does_ mind.

“Dude – seriously, what the hell is with you?” Blondie bugs insistently, trailing after the brunette. Philip stops, turns to look at the other boy.

“Why are you following me? Are you stalking me or some shit?” He questions.

Lukas looks at him like he’s nuts. “Look if you’re mad at me, I get it. I was a dick. But why are pretending like you don’t even know me?” The blonde asks, with folded arms as the brunette fixes him with a flat look.

“Because I _don’t_ know you. I lost my memory – I don’t even know your name.” Philip blurts out. “I’m sorry.” He adds upon seeing the blonde’s face crumple.

*

 _“I don’t even know your name, I’m sorry.”_ The words hit Lukas like a blow to the chest. He really had thought the brunette was just mad at him and hated him. He would never have thought that Philip lost his memory.

It hurts, to think that the brunette doesn’t have any clue who he is, or what he meant to Lukas. Hell, Philip probably doesn’t have any clue what Lukas meant to _him._ What if… he doesn’t mean anything anymore to Philip? He can feel his throat tighten, and something in his chest twists uncomfortably at the thought.

“My name’s Lukas.” He re-introduces. Maybe… maybe, if he spends time with Philip, his memory will come back, he thinks. _Maybe._

*

“I can show you how to ride a motorbike if you want.” Lukas offers. It’s a warm, sunny afternoon and he and Philip decided to take a break from the studying they were doing to just walk around.

“I can’t.” Philip points out.

“What do you mean you can’t? I just said I could teach-“

“Lukas, I meant I _can’t._ ” Philip interrupts, waving the cane. “My pelvis is messed up.” He elaborates.

“Shit – sorry.” Lukas can feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment because _fuck,_ how did he forget about that?

They continue their walk in silence. Philip leaves soon after that.

*

Philip has changed. Lukas tries and tries but he’s so… _different._ The other boy reacts to everything with either anger or indifference, and it’s just not the Philip he’s used to. His aversion to touch, is evidence that he’s clearly affected by what happened to him, so _why_ does he go on as if he’s unaffected? And Lukas wants so badly to help but he doesn’t know _how._

It feels more and more like the brunette has built up a wall around himself and it’s only a matter of time before it comes crumbling down.

It’s such a trivial thing. Philip was out; on a walk one morning when he tripped over a branch he didn’t see. His cane flies forward as he face-plants into the ground. The brunette manages to pull back onto his knees. His cane is too far to reach – not without twisting his hips, _shit._

If this had happened even six months ago, Philip would have just stood up without a second thought. But now, he can’t stand without a fucking cane so he’s stuck here, covered in dirt and pine needles on the _god damn_ forest floor. He feels like crying.

“Damn it.” He swears as tears roll down his cheeks because it’s _such_ a trivial thing but it’s _not._ Because he’s never going to be the same again. He’s never going to walk without a cane, he’s never going to stand the feeling of someone touching him, he’s never going to trust someone again enough to have a relationship again, he’s never going to be _clean._

_Why me? What did I do?_

He’s not sure how long he sits there before he hears footsteps.

“Philip?” Oh, it’s Lukas then. Philip looks at himself, covered in dirt, tears, and snot – what a pretty picture he must make. Lukas walks over, grabs his cane and hands it to him. Philip takes it, but instead of getting up he just sits there, on the ground. Lukas sighs and sits beside him in silence.

“My drink was drugged.” Philip blurts out. “Calvin was an ex of mine and I just stopped to talk with him for a bit, next thing I knew I’m stumbling around and he’s offering to help me. Then it all goes black. I woke up on a bed, tied down with an I.V hooked into my arm. I was so out of it, I didn’t know what he’d done to me. He never told me but I knew – could _feel it._ ” Words are just coming out of Philip’s mouth now, he can’t stop them. He hasn’t even told his therapist this much.

“He kept me under, for the most part, making sure I got food and water intravenously as well. I was woken up a few times, usually every few days – I was so out of it, I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. It felt like a constant hangover. He would try and talk to me sometimes – I never responded.” The brunette paused,

 “One day, I was just so _angry_ that I lashed out at him – insulted him, several times. He slapped me and put me back under again. The next time I w-woke up, was to him with a scalpel over my chest. He wanted me to remember him – so he gave me something to remember him by. He carved words into my skin and it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before. A few days later, I woke up with my hands tied in front of me and no I.V. He took to a mirror in the restroom, wanted to show me his handiwork I guess. He uh, he let me stay awake after that. All the fight had gone out of me, anyways.” As Philip finished, he didn’t even realize he was shaking.

Lukas doesn’t know what to say. Not sure there _is_ anything he can say that would help.

“I’m sorry.” Lukas settles for because he is. Lukas wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone Philip and guilt eats at him every day for leaving the brunette in that club. Philip huffs out a bitter laugh.

“That’s not why I told you.” He turned to look at the blonde, with fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. “You’ve been following me around like a lost puppy these past few weeks and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.” Philip took a deep breath. “Lukas, I’ve changed. I’m fucked up and-and even if I _wasn’t_ I’m not the same ‘Philip’ as before. I don’t- I’m not ready for a relationship either. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.” He explained, mumbling the last sentence. Lukas scoffed.

“I know that.” He replied. “I can wait.”

“Even if… I never get my memories back?”

Lukas shrugged. “We can make new ones.”

A smile then, for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Philip couldn’t lie; he didn’t know what his feelings were for Lukas yet. He wasn’t quite sure it was affection, but… he could get there, with time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked reading that! Thank you for all the comments and kudos, etc. It really means a lot to me, when I go through and read all the comments (even if I don't reply). :)
> 
>  
> 
> Come talk Eyewitness and other fandoms with me on Tumblr: kookyrainbows.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 is on the way! :)


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